Letters I'll Never Send

Main menu

I have feelings for you. There, I said it. Wait. I love you. That’s even more real. That’s the truth. I do. I love you. I love your touch. I miss your eyes, and I crave your presence. I long for you, but I can not say it. I must pretend. I have to keep on pretending that my soul doesn’t cry out for you…that I don’t imagine you holding me at night. I find comfort in that imagined embrace. I feel that you deserve to know of my affections, but to tell you would be like plucking a flower. I don’t want to take you, to own you. It is enough to admire you from a distance. It is enough to love you with no intentions. It is enough to care from afar. Is that not real love? Unconditional and unfair love? Well, it is said now. I do love you, even though you can never know. But I hope my not confessing isn’t hurting you. I don’t want to cause you pain. I hope that you and only you can feel my heart as I walk past you. I think I feel yours, or am I just wishful thinking? I know that I may never know. And you are in the same boat. Why oh why does this have to be so complicated?

I still wonder if this could be you. Each time I have written here since and make some distinct identifier, I have received one anon reply. And that is all. Just the one. And then never again. It’s like I am chasing a ghost around this site in hopes that it is the voice my heart longs to hear from. I seem to be grasping at straws, as if I’m desperately clinging to gasps of air here…drowning all alone.

It’s enough to feel that it is mutual. Unspoken love is more genuine. The smiling eyes full of love when I see those bright green eyes. Unusual awkwardness that you show when you ask a particular question.

I love you. But it remains – that you’ll never know.

I want to look after you. By not saying it means I can protect you, but still having that chance to be around you.

Since this letter you have become much closer to me physically. Yet you are so distant emotionally. I fear that I don’t know you anymore. And maybe I never did. I must stop doing this to myself, but I can’t. I just can’t. It is going to kill me one day.